Way of the Dragon
by Hoprocker
Summary: Never run from a fight. Always exact vengeance. Die with honor. This is the Way of the Dragon; the life Volga embraced after his own kin left him for dead. Multi-chaptered backstory, leading into the events of Hyrule Warriors.
1. Fear

**One fine day I was playing Hyrule Warriors when I met Volga and got to witness him in all his glory. The guy turns into a dragon! How awesome is that? Naturally, I was very interested to know his story. How can he turn into a dragon? Why does he resemble Volvagia? Is he hot under that helmet? Not literally. I want to know if he's a looker.**

**Okay, okay. Anyways, I decided I wanted to try my hand at writing his backstory since the game didn't give us any information on him. Since I have other stories going and I don't want it to turn into anything huge it'll only be about five chapters. I kept second-guessing myself as to how this thing would go down but I just decided ah heck, I'll go ahead and publish. If anything, it'll add a little bit more love to Volga's section. He deserves it!**

**Enjoy!**

**Prologue - Fear**

For more years than Volvagia cared to count, he had lived in the heart of Death Mountain. And many times in each one of those years, he was presented with a sacrifice, in hopes that his fiery rampage would be contained. Of course, it wasn't necessary at all. Volvagia had a very good temperament for a dragon, yet no one knew because no one cared to ask. Usually, those in his company only had the mind to cower and stutter profusely. Oh well. Volvagia would never turn down a free meal. Besides, it was good to let the mortals' fear fester inside them. And as their fear grew, the number of gifts given did too. As did Volvagia's pride. Their nervous worship of him made him feel like a god.

These mortals lived on the far side of the mountain and called themselves the Dragonkin, most likely an effort to keep favor with Volvagia. They possessed small amounts of magic, but nothing so powerful that it posed a threat to him. Pathetic, really. But not nearly as pathetic as the other residents of the mountain: the Gorons. These creatures were peaceful, but about as intelligent as the rocks they sprung from. They preferred to keep their heads down, avoiding Volvagia at all costs.

Unfortunately, Volvagia wasn't their only enemy. Dragonkin often hunted the Gorons to use as offerings in their sacrifices. It was no secret that Volvagia had a taste for Goron meat.

One day, Volvagia was curled in his favorite cavern when the scent of blood reached his nose. He was feeling particularly lazy today. The many lava pools in his special cavern warmed his skin, making his eyes droop with fatigue. He was tempted to bypass today's treat from the Dragonkin. Let the hungry Lizalfos have at it.

But as time wore on, the scent only grew stronger, making it difficult to sleep. Volvagia's mouth began to water. Perhaps a small snack couldn't hurt. It would make sleep easier to achieve.

He forced his heavy front limbs into movement, dragging himself upwards. Then he drifted into one of the many tunnels that led to the outside world. As he approached, the smell grew stronger and stranger. This was not the musky, earthy scent of the Gorons, nor the metallic blood of Dragonkin. It resembled that…but it was different.

Dragons lived long lives, and Volvagia was incredibly old. He had seen many things during his lifetime. So it was saying something, when he came outside and saw a sight he had never seen before.

It was a child. A child with fair hair and skin, lying in a crimson pool of his own blood. He was certainly of the Dragonkin, but none of those humans possessed the terrible mutations that afflicted this young boy's body.

One of his arms, which should have ended in a simple human hand, instead twisted into the claws of a dragon. Two leathery wings sprouted from his back, tangled together and covered in the same scarlet blood that dripped down the boy's face. Last of all, horns that resembled Volvagia's poked out of either side of his head like a tree extending its branches.

Volvagia remained silent for a long time, just staring at the child, shocked. Then the boy opened his eyes, peering at the great serpent through his mask of blood. His eyes were the color of emerald rupees. However, they held none of the fear that every other being possessed when gazing upon Volvagia's might. There was only quiet acceptance within.

It intrigued the dragon to no end. "Who did this to you, boy?" Volvagia hissed, drawing close.

The boy's eyes widened slightly, as though he had not expected Volvagia to speak. He gazed at him in silent awe. All the while, the pool around him was expanding.

"_Speak,_" Volvagia growled impatiently.

The boy took a rattling breath. When he spoke, his voice was laced with incredible amounts of pain. "My magic…too powerful…" he choked out, quite pitifully. "M-made a mistake…s-so they…"

It was then Volvagia realized the blood did not seep from a wound caused by the boy's wings. No. Someone had taken a knife to his back, multiple times. Many stabs wounds decorated the area around his wings, as if his attackers had been trying to rip them right out of his skin. The same wounds were found on his dragon arm, where the skin ended and the scales began. Volvagia could see right down to the bone. His face was also marred by terrible scars, near the horns. The long gashes reached all the way down to his eyes, cutting through them to the lower lid.

Hot rage filled the serpent's chest, causing flames to lick at the corners of his mouth. "Why would they do this to you?"

The boy closed his eyes, looking paler by the second. "Unholy…monster…" he rasped, referring to himself. His breaths were turning shallow.

"How dare they!" Volvagia snarled. "To cut you up like this and leave you on my doorstep, as if to dishonor my name and the name of dragons everywhere. Cowards! Fools!"

The boy did not respond, resigned to his fate. But Volvagia had no intention of devouring him. Instead, he reached forward with one delicate claw and plucked him up off the ground. Then, as quickly as he could, he flew him back to his cave.

There, he cauterized the boy's wounds and healed them to the best of his ability. Then he waited for the child to awaken. Hours passed. Sleep no longer called to Volvagia. Instead, he spent this time pacing the length of the cavern, starting at every little sound of pain the boy uttered. But he did not wake up. At one point, he was terribly still, and Volvagia was certain he had passed. But then he would see the tiny movements of his chest as he struggled for breath.

Night was falling when the boy finally opened his eyes. Volvagia froze where he was. The two looked at each other for a long time. Again, there was no fear in the boy's eyes. Not even wonder, despite his coming from a tribe that worshipped (or pretended to worship) the ground Volvagia walked on.

"It's respectful to greet your superiors, particularly after they've saved your life," Volvagia rumbled.

The boy struggled into a sitting position, ignoring Volvagia and turning his attention to his warped hand with wide eyes. The injured skin was now blackened. Dry blood crusted the area where it melded into dragon scales. He blinked a few times.

With his keen eyesight, Volvagia could see tears were threatening to form.

"…I only wanted to see how far my magic could go. The tribe is always encouraging us to become stronger. Especially me. They said I was special, that I had magic unlike any other, but…I went too far…I stole the dragon's blood they kept hidden and…" He trailed off. After swallowing a few times, he tried to explain further. "They called me an unholy monster. Impure. They grabbed knives and spears…" Again, he choked off into a pathetic sob.

Volvagia felt a twinge of pity for the poor thing. But it was unlike the usual contemptuous pity he felt for all of the lesser beings around him. He truly felt sorry for the little scrap.

"What of your parents, boy?" Volvagia pressed.

The boy blinked, eyes misting over even further. "Father was the one who said…we had to cut them off." His wings twitched and he winced.

Volvagia hissed through his teeth at the images that came to mind. He had no wings himself, but he could still imagine the pain.

"The Tribe Head told everyone I had to be eradicated…to destroy the evil." The dam broke. Tears seeped forth, cleansing the boy's face of the dried blood stuck there. "I never wanted to…it was a mistake…!"

"Enough!" Volvagia said, silencing the boy with a snap of his teeth. "What's your name, boy?"

"I-It's—"

"Burn it from your mind. From now on, your name shall be Volga. And I shall be the one to look after you."


	2. Vengeance

**I should mention now that I'm kinda straying from canon regarding Volvagia's backstory. But if the manga did, I can do it too, right? Oh also, I am going to have to mix up the timelines a bit too. But if Hyrule Warriors did, I can do it too, right? Okay, okay, I'll stop making excuses…but you know what they say. Never let the truth get in the way of a good story! So I'm gonna write what I want and hope no one hates me for it.**

**Please review and let me know what you think! I would love for some feedback on this.**

**Chapter 1 – Vengeance **

"Do it," Volvagia demanded.

Volga took a deep breath and gritted his teeth. He could feel a fire in his heart, filling his chest and building up from there. A roar started in the back of his throat and burst forth. Then came the flames. He spit them straight at Volvagia, but the scaly serpent didn't even seem to feel the heat.

"Go all the way," Volvagia said, eyes gleaming with excitement.

Every part of Volga felt like it was on fire. He focused on the dragon blood running through his veins and pushed his magic power to its limit. In a burst of fire, he transformed into a monster. Because that's what he was.

But he didn't see it as a curse any longer. Volvagia had taught him to view his magical abilities as a blessing. And what a blessing it was.

The rush of power that came with his new form was incredible. Human hands and feet turned into curved, deadly talons. His soft skin grew hard, armoring his body with protective scales. A fiery mane bristled on the back of his long neck. Best of all, blood red wings gave him the power of flight. And that had been more freeing than anything. The first time he flew, all of his troubles had melted away into thin air.

Volga gasped in awe, the transformation complete. "It didn't hurt that time!" He said, folding his wings into a comfortable position and turning to face Volvagia. The cavern was a great deal smaller, now with two dragons in it.

Volvagia offered him a toothy smile. "I told you, so long as you keep practicing, it will get easier and easier."

"Thank you," Volga murmured, bowing his broad head. "I couldn't have done it without you."

He moved in to show his gratitude, but Volvagia dismissed him with a wave of his tail. "No need for modesty. Pride is the Way of the Dragon. Take pride in your accomplishments."

"You've mentioned the Way of the Dragon many times now," Volga said, eyes shining at his mentor's praise. "I'd like to learn more about it."

Volvagia returned his gaze fondly. "I suppose I could stand to teach it to you, now that you've mastered your transformation. Come."

The great serpent darted into the nearest tunnel, his body twisting through the air like a bright, burning ribbon. Despite not having any wings, he could maneuver through the air with ease. Volga had to work hard to keep up with him, clumsily flapping his wings in pursuit.

After a minute of navigating through the caves of Death Mountain, they burst into the sunlight. Volvagia perched himself on a high stone ledge, curling his body to fit onto it. Volga scrambled onto the ledge beneath him, sending rocks showering down the cliff. He wondered how Volvagia managed to be so graceful with only two arms.

Volvagia gazed down the mountain. Volga followed his eyes and realized he was looking at the little village he had once resided in. Even from this distance, everything looked crystal clear. This alternate body was far superior to his original form.

"It looks so different," Volga mused. Many new huts had been built and he was having trouble picking out the one he had lived in.

"Yes. Places tend to change with the passage of time. You've been absent from the village for a few years, now."

Volga registered a faint amount of surprise. He looked at Volvagia, waiting for him to say, 'Just kidding!' but he was never the sort to joke around. "No. It couldn't have possibly been that long."

Volvagia let out a great yawn. His teeth flashed in the light of the setting sun. "Time passes differently for the immortal dragon. However, I do not know what will happen to you. You are both human and dragon. Your human form appears to have aged, but it may stop when you reach a certain point. You are quite the complex case." He eyed the young dragon critically. "But enough of that. Today, we are here to learn about what it means to be a dragon."

Volga sat up a little bit straighter, puffing out his chest.

"You see that village down there?" Volvagia nodded at Volga's place of origin. "Today is the day you will burn it to the ground."

Volga immediately deflated. He looked at his mentor in shock. "What?"

"Today. Or tomorrow. Or perhaps some time after that. Whenever you are ready, you will lay waste to all of those who have wronged you."

Volga was unresponsive. He sat there, digging his claws into the hard ground.

"Pride is an important part of being a dragon. A dragon would choose to die with honor before running from a fight. And when a dragon has been wronged, he will always…_always _choose vengeance." Volvagia's eyes gleamed, cold and without mercy.

"But they always bring you food…" Volga said quietly.

"I can hunt for myself," Volvagia replied instantly. "I can't begin to grasp why you're hesitating. Those people drove you from your home. They tried to kill you. Or did you forget?" Before Volga could respond, Volvagia continued. "Ah…no, I see. It's the human side of you that wants to protect them. You're weaker than I thought."

"I am not!" Volga snapped, his mane burning a bit brighter with his rage. He rose to his feet, facing up to his mentor.

Volvagia appeared amused. "Then prove it."

* * *

><p>As the sun set on the little village, Volga returned to his home for the first time in years. He supposed he could have burnt it to the ground without any fanfare whatsoever. But part of him wanted to walk these grounds one last time. The human part of him…the part of him that was weak.<p>

As he trod down the dusty mountain path in his human form, memories rushed back to him. Warm, happy memories were few and far in between, in a village so sick with fear. But he could remember practicing his magic with other children, easily putting them to shame with his skill.

Volga closed his eyes. Further back than that, he recalled his dear mother. She had died of a sickness when he was still learning to speak. But sometimes he could still remember her scent or her touch. He wondered if she would have let him be thrown out of the village, if she would have driven a knife into him like his father had.

"You…" A voice rasped.

Volga turned and came face to face with the Tribe Head. His eyes shone with suspicion and he clutched a staff for protection. His long beard and hair had turned whiter since he had last seen him.

"What business do you have with us, stranger?"

Volga looked around. Faces were peering out the windows of nearby huts, watching him fearfully. He couldn't help but smirk lightly. "Have I really changed so much?" he said aloud, more to himself than to the village's leader.

"Leave, now. A cursed town like this has nothing to offer you." The Tribe Head waved his staff in dismissal.

Volga supposed he could have played up the theatrics for a while longer. But Volvagia had little patience for such things, and so he had grown up the same way. "You mean…you do not recognize me?" Volga growled, his voice low and dangerous.

The Tribe Head took a step back. Volga reveled in the recognition that sparked in his eyes. "Impossible," he rasped.

"You would have me KILLED!" Volga roared. Two red wings burst from his back, sending out a wave of fire that knocked the Tribe Head flat on his back. There, he trembled and wailed in a thin voice for help.

"I was a mere child, who made a mistake," Volga said, working himself into a rage. His hands became talons in the blink of an eye. A mane of fire ringed his neck. "I was afraid. But instead of offering aid, you left me for dead."

Fire burned in Volga's throat, making him unable to continue with his speech. Dragonkin men were coming forth from their homes, wielding weapons. The same weapons they used to pierce his defenseless body, all those years ago.

Volga could no longer contain his fury. In another shower of flame, he completed his transformation into a dragon. Then he reared up, letting out a menacing roar that shook the mountainside. The screams of women and children answered him. Some were fleeing their homes, while others cowered in terror.

One clawed hand darted forward and snatched the Tribe Head right off the ground. He was covered in burns, but still struggled fiercely. His nostrils were flared with panic and tears ran down his face. Volga tightened his grip and looked into the Tribe Head's eyes.

The village had always lived in fear. But this was nothing compared to what they were feeling now.

Volga drove the Tribe Head into the ground, listening to the satisfying crunch of his bones. He supposed he could have drawn this out, but there were other matters to deal with. Arrows and spears were pelting him, ricocheting off his hide. Volga took to the air with a single beat of his wings, sweeping his tail behind him to knock a few of his attackers off their feet.

When he was high enough, he rained fire down on the town. There were those who tried to run, but they could not hope to escape his wrath. The flames cut them down where they stood, leaving behind a pile of smoldering flesh. Homes turned to ash. The little village was completely seared off the side of the mountain.

_The Dragonkin are no more, _Volga thought, alighting at the center of the little village, amidst a pile of bodies. He stayed there for a long time, listening to the crackle of the flames.

Volvagia had spoken of the good feelings that come with vengeance, but Volga did not feel them now. Nor did he feel grief for what he had done. Still, he sat in silence, much like a woodcutter who takes a moment of reverence after chopping down a tree that was a worthy opponent. Volga snorted smoke at the comparison.

He was just getting ready to leave when he saw him. His father.

He had somehow avoided the worst of Volga's attack, crouched in a cocoon of wreckage from his home. Now, he extricated himself, thinking it was safe to leave. He froze when he saw the great dragon in the town square.

Volga remembered the way his father had driven the knife into his back, calling him a monster. The devil's spawn. A curse on humanity. Many hurtful words had been thrown that day, and Volga could have never forgiven him for any of it. It was haunting. But, looking at his father now, he found he couldn't kill him. His legs would not move.

For a long time, the two were frozen, staring at one another. Then Volga spoke in the deep, guttural voice of a dragon: "_Go_."

His father ran like the coward he was. _Let him live, _Volga thought. He would forever be haunted by guilt and loneliness. He had thrown his son away, leading him to become a monster. He had led his village into ruin. Now, he had nothing.

Before leaving, Volga entered the village's armory. He took a set of red, scaly armor; the headpiece had been fashioned to look like Volvagia out of respect. This was his prize. The armor was too big for him now, but he promised himself that he would grow into it.

Volga spread his wings, flapping his way high into the sky. When he was high enough, warm thermals lifted him even higher. For a long time, he sailed through the sky, enjoying the warm breeze and the gift of flight.

He couldn't believe his village was gone. He had taken his vengeance and destroyed those who would have destroyed him. _The Way of The Dragon._

Hours later, Volga returned to Volvagia. His long body was curled like a snake as he napped. One eye opened when Volga entered. It glimmered with curiosity. "How did it go?"

Volga opened his snout, but no words came forth. Looking at Volvagia, Volga suddenly felt overcome with emotion. He stood there like a fool, but Volvagia did not snap at him.

Instead, he said quietly, "I know it can't have been easy, asking you to kill your family. Yet—"

"That village was not my family," Volga said firmly, finding his voice. "They were never…Volvagia, _you _are my family now. You are more of a father to me than my true father ever was. Thank you."

Volvagia huffed indignantly. "Do not call me that. I am merely your mentor."

"As you wish," Volga said, ducking his head respectfully.

But he had meant what he said. Volvagia was his father. He always would be.


	3. Pride

**Sorry if this chapter is a bit rushed, especially at the end. I don't want them getting to obnoxiously long. And since the story spans over a long long long long time, it'll feel like we're jumping around a lot. But I don't want this story to get crazy long!**

**And thank you so much to everyone who took the time to leave a review! It's great to know that people are reading this. :)**

**Chapter 2 – Pride**

The years passed by and Volga grew into his armor. But Volvagia began to grow bitter, and was constantly irate. Despite their closeness, he often snapped at Volga. He had practically bitten his tail off when Volga accidentally called him 'Father' one night.

One day, while out on a hunt, Volga confronted Volvagia about his behavior. The answer surprised him.

"War is brewing," Volvagia growled, tearing viciously into one of the cows they'd raided from a ranch. "You can smell it in the air. Darkness is coming." His snout wrinkled with unease and blood dripped from his lips.

Volga had to suppress a disdainful laugh. "Is that all? War is not of our concern. Humans are far beneath us."

"Ah, to be so young and naïve! This will not be a petty border squabble, boy. This war will consume the land. And us, as well."

Volga could not believe his ears. Volvagia spoke as if he could see into the future. This only made the idea seem more ludicrous. They were two powerful, undefeatable dragons. Surely a war could pose little threat to them?

As if reading his thoughts, Volvagia went on. "During times like these, mortals are apt to come calling on dragons. Some want to prove their worth as heroes. Others wish to harness our power for their own."

"I would never agree to such a thing," Volga scoffed.

Volvagia shot him a firm glare. "You would have no choice, if they possessed unspeakable dark magic! There are those out there who have powers that far exceed yours or mine. You know little of the world, but I have seen many things. Do not doubt my words."

Volvagia's wisdom sent Volga's stomach roiling. His mentor would often put him in his place if he became too prideful, but he would never downplay his own power. Perhaps something evil was truly afoot.

And they would come face to face with this evil only too soon.

One morning, Volvagia woke Volga quite abruptly, sinking his fangs into his skin to draw him out of sleep. Before Volga could get a word of protest out, the older dragon hissed, "Get up! Return to your human form, at once! You must hide. Flee. Something! Now _get up_!"

"What's happening?" Volga asked sleepily, refusing to budge.

Volvagia knocked him with his skull, trying to get him to move out of the cavern. While he did so, he rushed to explain. "A dark sorcerer is coming. You must leave this place at once. He does not know of your existence; there are few who do. But my reputation precedes me and he wishes to recruit me for his dark army."

"No—stop! We can fight him! Together," Volga said breathlessly, trying to stand firm.

Volvagia didn't respond. Great sadness was in his eyes.

"Or…or you could come with me…!" Volga faltered.

"No," Volvagia growled. "A dragon does not run from his battles, lest he lose his pride. You must die with honor rather than flee like a coward. You know this."

"Is your pride worth your life?!" Volga pleaded.

Volvagia let out a sudden roar, flames spouting from his throat. "If you have a single scrap of respect for me, you will do as I say! Now leave and DON'T COME BACK!"

Volvagia's words were enough to hurt Volga. But adding injury to insult, he dug his fangs once more into his tail. Volga yanked it from his grasp with a snarl and rushed from the cave.

Once outside the mountain, he stopped. Was Volvagia sending him out into the world, on his own? Or did he just want him to leave for the time being? _Leave and don't come back, he said. _Rebellion sparked in Volga's heart. Surely, after all they had been through, this couldn't be the way that it ended?

And so, Volga reverted to his human form (a difficult action, considering he had remained in his dragon body for so long) and crept back into the tunnels of Death Mountain. Without wings, they were more difficult to navigate. But eventually, he made his way back to the cavern. Before reaching it, the sound of voices reached his ears, echoing throughout the tunnels. He hid in a tiny alcove off the main path. Through a crack in the rocks, he could view the main cavern.

Volvagia was still inside. He was facing down a man with dark skin and a shock of red hair. Volvagia could have eaten him in one bite, leading Volga to wonder what was stopping him. But the more he looked at the man; the more dread began to seep into his mind. This dark sorcerer was dangerous.

"Lord Ganondorf. To what do I owe the pleasure?" Volvagia growled, hovering above his favorite pool of lava. His words were friendly enough, but his tone betrayed how he truly felt.

"You know of me?" The one called Ganondorf asked, a sly smile creasing his face.

"Old dragons know many things—and I know exactly why you have come. Unfortunately for you, I'm afraid I must decline your offer. Your war is not of my concern, and I do not wish to involve myself."

Ganondorf's eyes glittered dangerously. "Unfortunately for you, I'm afraid it was never your choice." He raised a fist, and a dark, glowing power shot out of it, straight at Volvagia.

The great dragon twisted through the air with a hiss, narrowly avoiding the dark magic.

Ganondorf smiled and clenched his fist. "If you do not wish to aid me, perhaps there is another who would. I have heard rumors of a second dragon residing within the mountain."

Volvagia uttered a scornful laugh. "That is absurd! A dragon would not share his territory with another. If there were a second dragon here, I would surely kill him. Just as I am going to kill you!"

Volvagia charged forward with a great roar, jaws wide open to consume Ganondorf. Before he could, Ganondorf summoned more of the terrible dark magic. This time, it hit Volvagia full-on. He recoiled with a shriek, falling backwards into the lava.

Volga remained where he was, quivering. He wanted to go to his mentor's aid. He owed him his life. And yet, he could not move. He had to honor his final wish of remaining hidden.

He nearly sighed aloud in relief when Volvagia emerged from the magma. But something was wrong. His green eyes no longer had their pupils, and he seemed to emanate a dark power. Instead of attacking Ganondorf, he only looked at him.

Ganondorf let out a hearty laugh. "That is the power of the long-feared dragon? That was far too easy."

Volga gritted his teeth, but remained where he was as Ganondorf began laying orders on Volvagia.

"Stay in this cavern for now. Do not eat. I wish you to be good and hungry for the feast of Gorons I will be preparing. And if anyone enters this place—kill them."

In a swish of his cape, the dark sorcerer disappeared.

Volga did not waste a second. He left his hiding place and reentered the cavern, crying out, "Volvagia! Are you all ri—"

Before he had gotten far, Volvagia lashed out with his long tail, sweeping Volga's feet out from under him. He crashed to the ground, though his heavy armor protected him from any scrapes.

Volvagia towered above him, glaring down. There was not a trace of recognition in the green depths of his eyes.

"Volvagia, it's me!" Volga shouted, reclaiming his dragon form in an instant. "It's Volga!"

Volvagia did not respond. If anything, the sight of another dragon only seemed to enrage him. He hurled himself forward with a shriek, digging his claws into Volga, tearing away at the plates on his body to get at the flesh underneath.

Volga struggled to get away, panic clouding his mind. _What has that sorcerer done to you?! _When he couldn't free himself, he swung his head, driving one of his horns into Volvagia's chest.

Volvagia shrieked in pain. But instead of releasing Volga, he only tightened his grip. Then, with incredible strength, he heaved the other dragon across the cavern. Volga hit the wall hard, causing rocks to shower down from the ceiling. He nearly fell into a nearby pool of magma, but caught himself just in time. He looked up to see Volvagia rushing towards him.

The look in his eyes told him everything he needed to know. Volvagia would not, and could not, recognize him no matter how loudly he yelled. He would continue fighting him until the death if he stayed.

Fighting til death with the Way of the Dragon. But he never could have fought his mentor until death.

Volga turned tail and retreated from the cavern. He beat his wings fast, aiming to leave Death Mountain lest it become his tomb. But as soon as he was clear of the cavern, Volvagia halted his pursuit. Volga paused in confusion, hovering where he was.

It was like there was an invisible wall between them. Volvagia was trapped behind it. He could only snarl viciously at Volga. Bloodlust filled every inch of his features.

Volga could feel his heart breaking. _There's nothing I can do. _He could not contend with dark magic. He had to leave his dear mentor here, and hope for the best.

Before he could leave, Volvagia tore away from their shared gaze. Shrieking with primal rage, he twisted high, high into the air, and then plunged straight down into a lava pool. His scream was cut short as he disappeared beneath the surface. The magma bubbled for a moment, then fell still.

Volga left Death Mountain, his body stinging with wounds. A few of the plates on his chest had been torn away. They would take ages to regrow. He found a small cave miles away from the mountain. There, he licked his wounds clean and mourned Volvagia's loss of his senses.

_I promise, that shall not be our last meeting. We will see each other once again, Volvagia. _

Volga lived as a roaming dragon for a long time. He avoided humans and hunted only at night. Without Volvagia, life became lonely. The old dragon's words of wisdom often came to mind as he plowed through each day's activities with reckless abandon. He hoped and prayed that the spell on Volvagia would wear with time, but he couldn't risk returning.

The darkness that Volvagia had foreseen was overtaking the land. Monsters Volga never could have imagined were appearing in every corner of it. Foul monsters that didn't even taste good, and killed all of the good prey. Being a dragon was getting tougher and tougher. Perhaps it would have been easier to retake the life of a human, but Volga was much too prideful for that. Volvagia had taught him which was the superior species and he would never forget that.

_I hope we can meet again someday, so you can teach me even more, _Volga thought with a heavy heart, crouched at the edge of a fast-running river. Octoroks swam deep beneath the surface, safe from his wrath. He sighed deeply and left to find food elsewhere.

One night, everything changed.

Death Mountain, which should have lain dormant for much longer, erupted. Terrible fire spewed from its mount and ash rained down its slopes. Volga was a long distance away when it happened, but he could still hear the explosion. High enough in the air, his keens eyes could pick out the faraway catastrophe. At the heart of it, he saw a familiar shape. It was like a dark ribbon, twisting through the flames.

_Volvagia._

Without thinking, Volga spread his wings and took off for the mountain. But it was so far away. Each of his wing beats seemed to take a day and an age. For hours he flew, and the mountain never seemed to get any closer or father. At some point, it finally began to grow and grow. A sense of nostalgia washed over him as he drew close. He was home.

But he was too late. Volvagia was dead, killed by a young hero wielding a legendary sword.

Forced to become Ganondorf's puppet, Volvagia had no choice but to enter a battle he could never hope to win. He had never wanted to be part of a war. He should have been able to forge his own destiny, and choose his own death. If not for those selfish humans and their senseless wars, he could have done so.

Volga waited for the youth to leave before approaching Volvagia's body. His heart was swollen with grief for his beloved mentor, and his adopted father. Yes, Volvagia had never wanted to be viewed as a father. But in truth, that's what he was.

Volga nuzzled his head into Volvagia's long neck. It was peppered with arrows. He closed his eyes, squeezing back hot tears. He knew Volvagia would scoff at such a display of weakness. He nearly laughed, imagining his reaction.

"Funny…I always thought you would live forever," Volga said, his voice husky with sorrow. He let his gaze run up and down the elder dragon's body. Each wound sent a fresh wave of pain washing over him. He had to close his eyes once more. "…You saved me, you know. You…gave me life. For that, I shall always honor you. I…will never forget you, Volvagia."

The Way of the Dragon was to live in the present. You move on. You don't waste time or energy on the past, something you no longer control. Had Volga died first, Volvagia would have moved on with little fanfare. Volga was only a small fraction of his long-lived life. He was a means to break the monotony. A new and exciting project to work on.

But to Volga, Volvagia had been his life. He could not leave him behind so easily. And so, for a day and a night, he mourned his lost guardian. He swore revenge on the dark sorcerer who had cursed him, and the hero who had led him to breathe his last. Then, he burned his body. Considering Volvagia's skin was fireproof, it was easier said than done. But Volga kept at it, doing what he could to break down his mentor's body and turn it to ashes.

When he had exhausted himself, Volga took what ashes he had produced and sprinkled some into Volvagia's favorite magma pool. Then the took the rest outside and circled over Death Mountain, letting them drift away on the wind.

By this time, dawn was approaching. The first light of the sun was peeking over the horizon, painting the night sky with light blue and yellow. It was time to move on—but there was still one last thing to do.

Volga took a bone from Volvagia's corpse and fashioned it into a pike. Over the years, he would always carry the weapon, taking it to multiple blacksmiths to improve upon it. One day, it would no longer look like a bone, but it would always be contained within. So that Volvagia was never truly gone. So that he would always be with him.


	4. Loneliness

**Of all the chapters, this one is probably closest to what you could call "filler." But I wanted to write it. Just to put a buffer in between OOT and HW. Plus we get to see some familiar faces! Hope you enjoy and don't forget to review!**

**Chapter 3 – Loneliness **

Volga left Death Mountain and the years flew by. Each one seemed to pass by quicker than the last. Light had returned to the land and peace reigned after the fall of the dark sorcerer.

Life as a roaming dragon was difficult, yet exciting. Volga hadn't realized how big the world truly was. There were vast seas of sand and water that stretched further than the eye could see. Fantastic creatures and colorful plants, each one different from the last, filled every corner of the earth, no matter how harsh the conditions. Living and learning helped Volga forget Volvagia for a time, and his desire for vengeance. Besides, the humans that he would have gladly killed were all dead at this point. Too much time had passed. He had never been able to locate them, anyways.

But Volga eventually became familiar with this world's cycles. Darkness was creeping back over the land. He could sense it coming this time, deep within his instincts, just like Volvagia had. Still, there wasn't much that posed threat to a dragon. So he kept up with his daily, wandering way of life.

One day, he was soaring high above the clouds when the sound of heavy wingbeats reached his ears. Before he could react, a large dark shape came bearing down on him.

Volga felt the breath crushed from his lungs as another dragon crashed into him with its full weight. Teeth scoured his wings. He twisted in midair, trying to get a clear view of his attacker. As he struck out with his claws, the other dragon pulled back.

This dragon was the same size as him, boasting a hooked tail and two scaly, red wings. Every part of the dragon's body was covered in black armor. Volga couldn't even see his eyes through the thick armor. A sense of dread settled over him, without warning. There was a strange, dark power emanating from this dragon.

A forked tongue flicked between rows and rows of needle-sharp teeth. "You dare trespass on the Ruler of the Skies, Lord Argorok's territory?"

Volga regained himself, paying no mind to the blood oozing from his wings. This haughty dragon was younger than him, high on whatever power he had been infused with. He was tempted to ignore him and go on his way, but he could not bring himself to do so. Volga lifted his chin and snorted, a puff of smoke spraying from his nostrils. "Ah, I did not realize this was the realm of the self-titled 'Ruler of the Skies.' Perhaps you should consider posting signs on the clouds."

"I shall paint the clouds with your blood, for your insolence!" Argorok snarled. He folded his wings to his sides and shot towards Volga like a drill.

With a single flap, Volga flew clear of him. As Argorok passed him, he opened his jaws and spewed a stream of fire. Argorok instantly returned with his own white-hot flames. The two jets of fire hit one another and dissipated, leaving behind a cloud of smoke.

Argorok launched himself through the smoke, teeth bared and claws splayed. Volga was taken off guard. The other dragon may have been younger, but he had more fighting prowess. Volga had never battled another dragon before; save for that one time Volvagia had attacked him.

Argorok clamped his jaws around Volga's neck and held on. His claws scraped at his belly. Volga felt the sting of his old wound acting up—luckily, the plates around his neck were stronger and held against Argorok's teeth. He struggled to remove them; clawing at every part of Argorok he could reach. But his black armor was thick and impenetrable.

The two dragons began to plummet, writhing and wrestling in one another's grips. Through his rage, Volga dimly realized that Argorok's wings were the only part that was unprotected. He tried to pierce one of them with his claws, or the sharp part of his own wing. But Argorok seemed to realize what he was doing and forced him under, keeping his fragile wings far out of reach.

Then they hit the ground. Volga felt something crack in his ribs, as his back hit hard soil. His wings took the worst of the blow. Argorok had used him as cushion, shoving him into the earth, then rebounding off his body and taking to the air. Once there, he laughed mercilessly.

"There! Now I'm sure you'll think twice before taking to the skies again. Rot in this hole, scum." With a satisfied hiss, Argorok swooped upwards. A minute later, he vanished into the cloud barrier.

Volga lay there for a long time, spread-eagled on his back. He felt a dull sense of panic. He couldn't seem to get enough air. There was an awful pain in his ribs and it was constricting his lungs. He wanted to lie here until it went away, but that didn't seem likely. Argorok might come back and finish him off. He couldn't imagine a worse way to go—defeated at the hands of such a pigheaded dragon.

Slowly as he dared, Volga forced himself up. The pain in his chest protested, but he winced and worked through it. The same pain was now ebbing into his wings, now that blood was flowing back into them. Once up, he found himself crouching in a small crater formed by his body. There were traces of blood in the dirt.

Volga turned his head to survey the damage.

His heart nearly stopped. His wings were crushed. He couldn't even fan them out to their full wingspan. The pain was unbearable. Not just the physical—he felt emotionally broken. He could not fly. He was earthbound.

_You fool, _Volga thought, scolding himself for feeling so weak. _You lived the first years of your life without wings. _

He took a deep breath. It had been a long time since he walked in his human form. But his injured wings would not be a problem if he didn't have them.

Volga focused what strength he had left on returning to human form. It was a cooling sensation that felt nice on his wounds. His wings vanished, and so did the pain. Still, his chest felt more constricted than ever, and his head swam with confusion. He lay back down, hoping to clear it.

Instead, he closed his eyes and passed into darkness.

* * *

><p>It was nighttime when Volga awoke.<p>

His breathing pains were no different, but at least his head had cleared. He spotted his dragonbone pike a few yards away. He had briefly forgotten about it, and was glad to see it was still here. The weary knight reached for his weapon, but it was too far away. Grunting, he rolled to his side and dragged himself along the ground with his elbow, careful not to fall on his tender stomach.

Seconds had never seemed to last longer. Eventually, he reached the pike. He used it to support himself as he rose to his feet, and then leaned on it heavily like an old man and his cane. His armor, which was usually as pristine as a ruby, was coated with grime. His blonde hair was matted against his skin. It had been a long time since he'd been in his human form, but nothing seemed to have changed. His muscles were firm as ever and his skin appeared smooth under the coating of dust.

Not that it mattered. What mattered was finding a safe place to stay and healing his wounds. At that moment, his stomach growled, as if reminding him of its presence. _Food and water would also be a plus… _He thought, peering into the darkness.

In the distance, he could make out the tall spires of a grand castle, and the lights of the town encircling it. It was like a beacon in the dark, calling to him. Volga felt nauseated at the very idea of seeking help from humans. But what other choice did he have?

_I know. I shall not waste my time on them—only their necessities. I shall take what I need and be on my way as soon as I am capable of flying once more._

* * *

><p>Volga reached the castle town just before dawn, when the guards were opening the gates. They said nothing to him as he limped by. Humans were less intelligent than he thought. In truth, he was glad they had not stopped him to ask questions. He was in too much pain. His long journey had left him with a shortness of breath that would not go away. His bone-dry throat ached for the sweet relief of water.<p>

He kept his helmet pulled over his head, casting his scars and eyes into shadow. Still, that did not stop the townspeople from gawping at him. He ignored their curious faces and made a beeline for the town market. His keen nose had instantly detected the scent of raw meat upon entering the town. He located the market in the southern part of it.

Shopkeepers shouted at him as he passed by their stalls without a glance.

"Apples! Red, juicy apples! Best in Hyrule!"

"Would you like to buy a beautiful bouquet of flowers for a loved one, young man?"

"Freshly baked bread, straight from the oven!"

Volga ignored them all.

"Spring water!"

At those two words, Volga's head snapped sharply to the side. A young Goron was manning a stand that sold only water. It was as though it had been put in this town just for Volga.

For a moment, he stayed where he was, staring at the Goron. His mouth watered. Goron was a delicacy, according to Volvagia. He himself had never been quite so fond of their meat, but at this point, he would have gladly eaten one. Or two. Or a dozen.

But he wanted to recuperate in this town. Eating its residents would surely lead him to be driven from it. Besides, sating his thirst was the most important thing right now.

Volga snatched up a bottle of spring water and chugged it in five seconds. Then he slammed it down and reached for a second.

"Hey!" The little Goron cried out in a shrill voice. "You have to pay for those."

Volga didn't answer as he consumed a second. He dared to reach for a third when all of the sudden, the boy's father appeared from the alley behind their stand. Volga registered a small amount of surprise when he saw the Goron. Over the years, they had evolved to become more muscular and more threatening.

The Goron glared down at him. "You intend to pay for those?"

Volga didn't respond. Gorons weren't worth the waste of breath. Instead, he tightened his grip on his weapon, preparing for a fight. The big Goron's fists were clenched, as if he too were thinking of an attack plan. His son stood between them, looking terrified. No one moved.

"You're lucky I don't make an example of you in front of my son," The Goron growled.

Volga couldn't help but smirk. "You would have lived to regret it," he said, turning to go. His voice was barely more than a wheeze, but the Goron heard his words.

"On second thought—GUARDS!" The Goron roared, making everyone in the nearby area perk up with alarm. "Thief! We have a thief over here!" The Goron made a grab for Volga, but his stand blocked him from coming close enough.

Volga leaped back in disgust. An instant later, the Goron's son took up the cry in a shrill voice. "Thief! Thief!" He cried.

Guards began appearing down the way. Any other day, Volga would have been happy to meet their onslaught. He would have been grateful for the opportunity to practice fighting with his pike. But today was not his day.

Volga slipped into a nearby alley before the guards could begin rushing him. He wondered if he should keep running or try to hide. His armor would do him no favors in trying to blend with a crowd. And he didn't know these streets well enough to make a clean getaway.

Before he could make a decision, the door of a nearby home cracked open. "In here!" A high voice whispered. "Hide in here!" The door opened wider, drawing him in.

Volga entered without missing a beat. As soon as he was inside, the door closed shut behind him. He turned around, peering out a little window to see guards rushing by, in hot pursuit of a red-clad knight they would never find.

A soft giggle drew Volga's attention away from the window. "A lil dragonfly told me you were in trouble!"

Before him stood a little girl with blonde pigtails and big blue eyes. She wore a poofy dress, gaudy earrings, and a pair of butterfly wings on her back. She was quite possibly the strangest-looking human Volga had ever seen. The butterfly motif present in her appearance made him wonder if she worshipped the little beasts.

Volga didn't realize he was staring until the little girl clasped her hands and gasped, "Oh, silly me! I forgot the formalities. I am Agitha, Princess of the bug kingdom. Nice to meet you!"

Volga didn't respond. He was looking around the room, mildly shocked. It was more like a jungle than the inside of a human house. Golden butterflies flitted through shafts of sunlight that poured through the windows. Ants and beetles marched purposefully over tree trunks. Here and there, his eyes picked out all sorts of bugs he had never seen before. He couldn't stop staring.

A small poke on the shoulder roused him. "And you are?" Agitha asked.

"…I am Volga…the Dragon Knight," Volga answered. It was a title he'd chosen for himself long ago, though he never had the chance to speak it until now.

"Why were you running from the castle knights, Mr. Volga?"

_And why did you decide to assist a stranger running from the knights? _Volga didn't have the strength to argue ethics. "I failed to realize that you must pay to drink water in this town." _Ludicrous. _He tried to take a deep breath, but pain shot through his chest and he sunk to the ground with a groan. Fleeing from the knights had drained what strength he had left.

"Oh, you poor thing! You're hurt! What happened?"

"Fought a dragon," Volga said through gritted teeth.

Agitha blinked in surprise. Volga was shocked to find she believed him. "Oh my. Well, don't worry! My loyal subjects and I will fix you up right as rain."

For the next few weeks, Volga recovered in Agitha's home. His ribs mended. Though not in his dragon form, he felt like his wings were restoring as well. Strength returned to his body. He began to think to himself…perhaps not all humans were bad. He regarded Agitha as having low intelligence, but at least she possessed a kind heart. Every day she would go to the market and bring him back fresh meat and spring water. Volga began to feel slightly protective of the young girl. He realized this must have been what Volvagia was feeling when he took him in.

One day, Volga was biting into a cooked shank of boar meat when he asked Agitha how she could afford all of this.

"My parents were ever so rich," Agitha responded, gaze focused on a pill bug resting on her finger. Her eyes looked slightly sad.

"…May I ask what happened to your parents?" Volga said solemnly.

Agitha smiled, though the grief was still plain in her bright blue eyes. "They died," she said simply.

Silence stretched between the two of them.

"…My parents are also dead," he murmured.

Agitha didn't respond to that. Quiet blanketed the room as they continued with their meals. Then Agitha voice her own question. "May I ask how you got those scars?"

After a week with Agitha, Volga had decided he couldn't constantly wear his heavy armor. He had removed his helmet and revealed his scars to Agitha at some point, but she hadn't commented on them at the time. He supposed now it was only fair—he asked her about her parents, she asked him about his scars.

He ran his fingers along them. They gathered at his temples, some extending through his eyelids. They were a reminder of a day he wished he could forget. Volga told Agitha a vague story about how his village feared his magic and tried to drive him out. He wished he could be rid of these scars, just as he could be rid of those worthless memories.

"I can help you!" Agitha said perkily, getting up and going towards one of her drawers. "Sometimes my butterfly friends mix me pretty powders and make-up. You can spread this over your eyes to cover your scars!"

She offered him black powder that stained his fingers when he touched it. With Agitha's help, he spread it over his eyes, shaping it into little V's beneath his lower eyelid. When they were done, she showed him a mirror. The powder perfectly concealed his scars and made his green eyes stand out more than ever. He thanked Agitha politely for her help.

Not long after that, Volga began to grow restless. His strength had returned. It was time to disembark on another journey. He waited until the weather was good to voice this to Agitha.

"You're leaving?" Agitha asked tearfully, when he told her. "But…I'll be so lonely without you here."

"You'll have your bugs," Volga said firmly, but kindly.

"That's true…" Agitha lowered her eyes, looking at the mayflies and mantises around her feet.

Volga bowed respectfully. "I am grateful to you. I may not have survived, without your help."

Agitha smiled. "Then you shall forever be in debt of Princess Agitha! That means you must visit every so often and bring new additions to the insect kingdom."

Volga didn't make any promises. He bid Agitha farewell and set off from the little town. However, once outside, he did not transform back into a dragon.

It was time for a new adventure—one he would conquer in human form. He was going to become stronger, as strong as he could be. He would learn to do battle and fend for himself in both forms, so that he could be worthy of the title Dragon Knight.


	5. Purpose

**We're getting into Hyrule Warriors now. This might be my favorite chapter yet! As always, thanks for reading and reviewing! :) I put together a little music video of Volga to kind of go with the story. The link is on my profile if you are interested! I'm pretty proud of it.**

**Chapter 4 – Purpose**

Volga never did return to see Agitha. Though she had been like a little light in the dark world of humans, his old opinion quickly returned. Living as a knight, he interacted with them more than he ever had as a dragon. Their selfishness knew no bounds. It was as if honor was a foreign concept to them. Volga grew frustrated with their ways.

Once he had lived out a few lifetimes as a human, he decided it was time to return to his dragon form. Some witnessed his transformation when he took back to the skies. Argorok was no longer alive to challenge him and he flew away, head held proudly.

Though he didn't know it at the time, that was how numerous rumors began to spread like wildfire. The rumor of a knight becoming a dragon passed into legend. Conquerors and scholars tried to seek him out, but they would never find him, for he had returned home.

Death Mountain was no longer there. Over the centuries, it had been broken down with explosions as greedy Gorons went mining for precious stones. It was now called 'Eldin Caves.' The lava flows of old still remained, alongside caverns filled with beautiful blue stones. Old mine cart tracks could still be found in the facility, though hordes of monsters now discouraged mining.

Volga took up residence here, far away from the eyes of others.

He did this because he could sense a disturbance. War was coming again—he could practically smell it in the wind. But there was something new, too. A deeper sense of dread, sitting in his gut like a rock. This war could involve him, if he weren't careful. And he refused to become a pawn like Volvagia had.

So Volga hid himself away.

Besides himself, many others resided in the Eldin Caves. There was a large reptilian beast that called himself King Dodongo. He and Volga treated one another with respect. He was the perfect neighbor; quiet and keeping to himself.

Far from Volga's resting place, there was a small army of Gorons. They were apparently guarding something, but so long as they did not bother him, he would not bother them.

Lastly, there were smaller monsters such as Dinolfos and Lizalfos. The chieftains of these two tribes took to Volga instantly and began worshipping his power. They tried to bring him tribute in order to swear their loyalty, but Volga instantly put a stop to it. He did not want to become like Volvagia. He did not want to be worshipped as a god.

"Let us respect one another as brethren," he told the chieftains firmly. "We will protect one another, if we must. Do not go out of your way to win my favor."

"Yesss, Master!"

He couldn't stop them from calling him Master, but at least they obeyed his request. Volga felt rather fond of their ability to listen. These creatures were smarter than Volvagia had ever given them credit for.

Thinking of Volvagia, Volga told himself he wouldn't stay here forever. As soon as the war resolved itself, he would return to his life as a roaming dragon. It was uncommon for a dragon to roam, but he had always preferred that lifestyle. Most likely because he was partially human, a creature that was never satisfied with what it had. A creature that was always in search of greener pastures, envying those around them for what they had.

Volga was too prideful for envy or avarice, though he was plagued by the same restlessness. Now it was worse than ever, as he waited for peace to return to the land.

One night, Volga was walking through the caves in his human form, dragonbone pike with him as always. Strolling through the blue-tinged tunnels and marveling at the beauty of the stones never grew old to him. It calmed him and cleared his mind.

Gossip was swirling among the residents of Eldin Caves, leaving everyone on edge. There was talk of a gate being opened and monsters flooding the land. Volga had sensed as much. Monsters didn't scare him; but what made him nervous were the rumors of a dark sorceress known as Cia, looking for a general to command her army.

Tonight was the night she would pay him a visit.

Volga could sense her dark presence when she entered the caves. He quickly left the crystal caves and went to make sure the Dinolfos and Lizalfos were secure in their forts. There were many abandoned keeps within the Eldin Caves that served as protective homes for its residents—Volga had even claimed one for himself, in the deepest reaches of the cave, near a lava flow. It was quite a hike from where he was now.

He leaped off a steep cliff, landing firmly on his feet. He was about to continue in the direction of his home, when a sweet yet sultry voice stopped him in his tracks.

"There you are. My champion."

Volga slowly turned to come face to face with the dark sorceress. She had been lying in wait for him, shielding her presence with her powers. Now here they were together. Alone.

Cia faintly reminded Volga of Ganondorf, the sorcerer who had turned Volvagia into a monster. She wore a rather revealing black cloak and a birdlike mask that hid her face from view. Her skin was covered in strange tattoos and her wrists dripped with jewelry. A mischievous smirk unfolded on her face.

Volga braced himself for a fight, flames burning in the back of his throat. Then he realized Cia had no weapon. In fact, she did not seem to want a fight at all. Volga hesitated, waiting for her to speak.

She strode forward, swaying her hips from side to side almost purposefully. "I had no idea the fabled Dragon of the Caves was such a strong, handsome man. Such a creature would easily be able to command my legion's obedience." The sorceress extended a hand as if to stroke his face with her long, black nails.

Volga took a step back, disgusted.

Cia seemed to take on a different approach. Her voice lost its smooth quality and she stopped trying to push her chest into Volga's line of vision. "Listen to my words, Volga the Dragon Knight. I offer you a chance to command and to kill on a scale you can't imagine."

"No. Leave."

Volga's stern and immediate response seemed to shock Cia. Her mouth hung partially open, as if she had more to say. Then it twisted into a snarl. "I'm afraid that won't do."

Cia held out her hand. It glowed with a dark power, reminiscent of another dark sorcerer's. A moment later, a long staff appeared. A purple crystal with sharp edges rested atop. With a flick of her wrist, the staff transformed into a mace. The crystal hung on the end of a whip, shimmering with power.

"Looks like I'll have to get my hands dirty," Cia sighed, preparing to strike.

Flames licked at the edges of Volga's lips. He could feel the heat building in his chest, barely able to contain his rage. "Leave me BE!" He roared, two wings bursting from his back. Cracks in the scales glowed, as though magma were burning just beneath. "I have no interest in humans or their wars!"

Cia didn't look the least bit intimidated. "Ha!" She laughed scornfully. "You don't fool me. You're a warrior. War is the only thing that interests you."

Volga could not believe what he was hearing. Words would not solve this, nor would intimidation. He braced himself for a fight.

Then suddenly, two green shapes hurtled out of nowhere and threw themselves on Cia.

"HSSSS! You no insult Master Volga!" The Dinolfos Chieftain snarled, attempting to sink his fangs into Cia's shoulder.

"We k-k-kill her for you, Master!" The Lizalfos Chieftain stammered.

"We roast her flesh for great feast!"

Cia let out a scream of frustration, throwing both lizards off with a wave of magic. They flew a few yards away, but both were instantly back on their feet, ready for more. Behind them, swarms of their subjects were climbing the cliffs to get at Cia.

Volga felt a surge of warmth at their loyalty. He caught the Dinolfos Chieftain's eye and nodded. "Good. But don't underestimate her. She has the smell of power."

In a burst of flame, Volga transformed. While he was making a retreat, he caught sight of Cia looking at him. He felt a disturbing shudder. She was smiling at him. Reveling in his power, which she clearly thought would soon be hers. He had to get out of here.

Volga made haste for the exit. The day was warm and good for flying. He would leave this place and fly far, far away, to a place no one could ever hope to find him.

But as he left the caves and entered the outside world, a familiar voice spoke in his head:

_A dragon does not run from his battles, lest he lose his pride. You must die with honor rather than flee like a coward. You know this._

Volga stopped in his tracks.

What was he doing? When Ganondorf had come for Volvagia, the wise old dragon had faced him down courageously. Now, Cia had come for Volga. He was running away with his tail between his legs, while his brethren fought his battles for him.

_How can I even call myself a dragon? _Volga thought miserably. _Where is my pride?_

Fear threatened to drown out whatever pride he had left. Volga was terrified. There was no other way to put it. He didn't want to lose his mind, as Volvagia had. He didn't want to die.

Volga stilled his wings and let himself fall to the ground. He landed in a puff of dust, bowing his head shamefully. "What should I do, Volvagia?" He asked aloud. "Is pride worth my death?"

He could imagine Volvagia's hiss clearly in his head.

_Yes. Now stop acting like a cowardly human, and start acting like a dragon! Your kin are fighting for you. Go to their aid!_

Volga closed his eyes, trembling. _I am not brave like you. I am a human as well as a dragon._

_Then what have I been teaching you for? Was it all a waste of my precious time?_

_No. No, it wasn't._

_Then go back and fight. Show me you are worthy to bear my image atop your head._

Volga stood up. His heart was pounding furiously, his chest aglow with his strength. Slowly, his fear was falling away. In its place, determination rose up. He would make Volvagia's spirit proud or die trying. That was the Way of the Dragon.

As quickly as he could, Volga returned to the battle. Already, bodies littered the caves. Gorons, bokoblins, and those who served him. Cia had disappeared from the place Volga had met her. In her place, she had left dying fragments of his army. He spotted the Lizalfos Chieftain among them. He was bleeding out from multiple wounds, his eyes closed, his tongue lolling out of his jaws.

Volga reclaimed his human form and stood next to the fallen chief. Upon his approach, the Lizalfos opened its eyes.

"Sssorry, sir," the reptilian warrior coughed. "We shame dragon kind!"

"Don't speak such words," Volga murmured, kneeling beside the Lizalfos. "You died in battle, as any true dragon should."

The Lizalfos closed his eyes and rasped, "Dinolfos…he said…mussst call great beast. So…"

A distant roar echoed through the caves. "King Dodongo!" Volga exclaimed, rising to his feet in shock. "Why would he involve himself?!"

"Mussst…protect…Mas…ter…" The Lizalfos Chieftain let out one final sigh and drifted off to places unknown.

Volga left the chieftain's side, racing to find King Dodongo in the labyrinth. His roars of challenge soon turned into pained screeches. When all went silent, Volga knew he was too late.

He arrived to find Cia standing next to King Dodongo's corpse. Volga could feel his spirit drop at the sight of the fallen beast. _He needn't have involved himself for my sake. _

Fear was beginning to creep back into his veins. The Lizalfos and Dinolfos armies had fallen. King Dodongo had fallen. Both, for his sake. Now it was down to just him and Cia.

"You'll be mine soon enough," Cia purred, pointing her staff at him.

Volga glared at her, though his eyes were cast in shadow. "I acknowledge your power since you defeated my brethren. But I still see no reason to be involved in your war."

"Still?" Cia growled, a strange portal appearing at her feet. "I'll just have to MAKE you serve me!" Her voice rose to a shriek. Dark swordsmen burst from the portal, slashing their weapons at Volga.

The points of their swords glanced harmlessly off his armor. Volga took a deep breath and sprayed fire in every direction. The dark swordsmen dissipated on the spot. But Volga had taken his eyes off the true threat.

Cia's mace slammed into his shoulder with unexpected strength. It knocked him off balance, leaving him open to a furious lashing from her whip. Dark portals kept appearing underneath him, threatening to suck him under. At the same time, pillars of magic shot up without warning, scalding and weakening him. He could feel his mind becoming muddled. Dark magic could not be taken lightly.

"Enough games," Volga spat. Two wings burst from his back. He threw himself forward, driving the point of his pike into Cia.

She screamed, but at the same time, threw up some kind of shield to stop the spear from penetrating her flesh. Volga claimed the upper hand, taking the opportunity to slash at her with one giant claw.

He was looking more dragon than human now. He completed the transformation, taking to the air. Cia was covered in dirt and bruises, glaring at him from the ground. Blood trickled from her bare shoulder.

"Yes, enough games," she agreed. Suddenly, copies of herself burst forth. There had to be at least five of her now. But Volga still had his eye on what he thought was the real one.

Volga rained down gigantic fireballs, roaring ferociously. Cia and her copies dodged nimbly, laughing all the way. When she was in the perfect place, Volga laid his wings flat against his back and threw himself at her. His twisted his body like a drill, a move that silly dragon Argorok had introduced him to. As he hit the ground, rocks flew in every direction. But Cia had somehow disappeared.

Volga lifted his head with a frustrated grunt. That hadn't been the real Cia. He had chosen wrong.

Suddenly, there was a pressure at his throat. His body was thrown flat against the ground, as though held down by invisible chains. A Cia stood on each side of him, emanating with dark magic, laughing cruelly. Volga's eyes flitted between the four of them, trying to figure out which was the real one.

Meanwhile, her army of bokoblins approached from every angle, holding crude weapons. A number of them aimed arrows in his direction.

"Let's not make this difficult for yourself," all four Cias spoke. "Succumb to me and I will spare—"

With a great surge of power, Volga broke free of their restraints. He lashed out with his claws, taking out the three remaining copies. Cia shrieked with fury, striking him with her whip.

"Attack the dragon's wings!"

Arrows flew through the air, piercing Volga's wings. All the while, Cia continued lashing at him until blood flew off the end of her whip.

Volga easily killed dozens of her forces with one sweep of his tail. But twice as many soldiers seemed to take their place. All the while, Cia's dark magic began to break down his life force. Volga's strength was waning; this was clear to see, as his fiery mane burned dimmer and dimmer. But Volga would not give up.

At some point, the pain in his wings became too much to bear. He dropped to the ground, disposing of his enemies with teeth, claws, and flame. They threw their little bodies at him, driving knives into his scales. Some found the weak spot on his chest where his scales had been torn away long ago and never fully healed.

Blood dripped from Volga's scales, spattering the earth beneath him. His mind began to grow hazy. Countless dead bodies surrounded him. Seeing them, he couldn't help but feel proud. He would die a true dragon's death. He would not be used like Volvagia was. Volga embraced death, wishing it to come on swift wings.

Suddenly, a peculiar light seemed to envelope Volga and the bokoblins around him. Time slowed. Was this death?

…No.

Volga saw Cia standing before him, arms thrown in the air. Dark magic burned all around her. Her lips curled into a cruel smirk.

What followed was like an explosion. Pain burned through every part of Volga's body as he was thrown into the air. When he hit the ground, he was back in his human form. He hadn't even triggered the transformation. All of his strength was gone. He lay on the ground and didn't move.

Cia walked up, the sound of her footsteps echoing through the cave. All had gone quiet. Everyone was dead. Even Cia's minions, who she had killed in that final, devastating attack.

"This whole exercise has taught me something important: independent thought is severely overrated in underlings," Cia said haughtily.

Volga wanted to rip her throat out with his teeth. But he couldn't move—the same spell that had bound his dragon body was once again keeping him glued in place. Cia kneeled beside him and delicately grabbed Volga's chin, forcing him to look at her. She had removed her mask, revealing a young, pretty face underneath. It didn't seem to suit her.

"I told you you would be mine," she whispered. Her eyes glowed violet.

Volga could feel his resistance waning. Suddenly, the entire fight seemed silly to him. Cia only had his best interests at hand. Why shouldn't he be involved in this war? Didn't he want to get revenge on humans—for Volvagia's sake?

"Say you'll serve only me," Cia commanded. "Me and me alone."

_No…! _There was still part of Volga that wanted to resist her. But he could no longer see the reason why. It would be easier to give in. Fight alongside her. Do as she told him.

"I swear…eternal loyalty to Cia…" Volga choked out, each word causing him pain. "My…only desire…is to fight worthy foes."

As he said it, everything seemed to fall into place. He would be happy to serve Cia. She would give him a purpose to live.

"Excellent. Good behavior must be rewarded, don't you think?" Cia waved her hand.

There was an immediate rush of power that returned to Volga. It was so intense that he had to jump to his feet to contain it. This was unlike anything he had ever felt before. He felt…_unstoppable._

He looked at Cia in disbelief. She smiled back at him.

"Now that that's done, let's talk about laying siege to Hyrule."


	6. Obedience

**I break away from canon once more in this chapter. :P All of those soldiers running around Skyloft seemed unrealistic. I had a ton of fun writing Ghirahim! I'd like to write a story about him in the future.**

**Chapter 5 - Obedience**

Cia's first task for Volga and Wizzro was to lay siege to Hyrule.

Wizzro was a twisted wizard born of an evil ring. He was to be Volga's co-commander in this war. Volga had loathed him upon introductions. Despite being under Cia's power, there was still something fickle about his actions and his words. His dark powers unnerved Volga, but not so much as the reckless manner in which he used them. He preferred to keep his distance from the little wretch, though it wasn't easy.

Side by side, they marched towards Hyrule, a horde of monsters at their heels. Once they arrived, Volga left Wizzro at the earliest opportunity and transformed. He threw himself into the heart of the fray, scattering soldiers with his wings and tail. His teeth easily penetrated their pathetic armor and he tasted blood on his tongue. Fear flashed in their eyes, just before the light in them died forever.

Killing was so simple thanks to Cia's blessing of strength. A frenzied bloodlust settled over Volga. He wanted to kill more. More. _More! _Humans deserved none other than death. And he would gladly give it to them.

Volga entered a keep in a burst of flames, roaring a challenge. "If you're ready to join your ancestors, then I accept your challenge!"

Soldiers ran for their lives. "Don't let the Dragon Knight through!" their captain screamed. And yet, they disobeyed. Cowards to the core.

However, there was one who stood his ground: a young blonde soldier that looked strangely familiar. It stirred a long-past memory at the back of Volga's mind. But he let it slip away, like water through his fingers. It didn't matter. All that mattered was serving Cia.

Volga dropped to the ground in his human form, landing on his knees and scattering stones. He let out a breath of fire, bracing himself for a fight. As he rose, he swung his dragonbone pike around and plunged it into the ground. Then he let out a ferocious roar.

What soldiers had remained fled. However, the young blonde one stayed, sword at the ready. He rushed forward courageously.

Volga gladly met his onslaught. He expected to defeat the foolish boy with one swing of his pike, but the soldier dodged nimbly. Then he retaliated with a barrage of sword strikes. He knocked Volga back with surprising strength.

Volga skidded backwards, dropping into a crouch. The soldier stood before him, panting, but ready to defend himself. Volga had not expected to meet such resistance.

A growl built in his throat. "Get out of my way, boy," he rumbled dangerously, rising to his feet. He clenched his fist with a grimace; easily summoning the power Cia had blessed him with. In a burst of flame, his fist became a deadly dragon's claw. Then he charged the soldier, prepared to deal a killing blow.

The young soldier did not flinch. He held his ground, sword and shield at the ready. Still, Volga could see the uncertainty plain in his eyes, pondering if he was staring death in the face. He prepared to swing his sword—but he was just a bit too slow.

Volga's claws smashed the soldier in the face, sending him flying through the air. He hit the ground with a pained grunt and rolled a few more paces.

Suddenly, a lithe figure sprang in front of the soldier. It was the captain of the guard. Willing to throw her life away for a simple nobody.

"How noble," Volga said. "Enjoy your shared grave."

Cia would be pleased to learn he had crushed such an irksome bug underfoot. Heat began gathering in his limbs. Volga glowed with power, so much that the ground began to shake wildly. Fire shot from his lungs, blanketing the pair in flames. The entire keep caught fire. Volga had not yet grown used to his new strength. Still, he observed the damage with his chin lifted proudly

The dark orange flames crackled and danced before his eyes. He smirked. _Pathetic. _Then he turned to leave—but before he could take two steps, there was a brilliant flash of light. Volga whipped around.

A golden circle of light blew the flames back like they were nothing. There stood the young soldier, sword raised, a triangular beacon shining on his left hand. Hyrule's general stood with him, whole.

Volga sensed a godlike power emanating from the soldier, something he had not noticed before. This was no normal boy. And now would not be the time to deal with him. He would have to report this to Cia.

"You haven't beaten me," he sneered, backing away. "You've merely hidden behind your shields—human and otherwise."

He turned tail and fled to the skies.

"Slacking off again?" Wizzro said nastily, when he caught sight of Volga rejoining him on the battlefield.

The dragon ignored him. To him, this was no cowardly retreat. They would regroup and destroy those fools when the time was right. This was certainly not over.

* * *

><p>A few days later, the Hyrulean forces decided to bring the fight to their doorstep, in the Valley of Seers. Volga, Cia, and Wizzro were ready for them. The Gate of Souls was wide open, supplying them with an endless flow of soldiers. At the top of the valley, they watched the two forces battle it out.<p>

"Keheheh! Brave, aren't they?" Wizzro chuckled.

"Worthless…these vermin will barely qualify as exercise," Volga sneered.

With his keen dragon eyes, Volga spotted familiar faces among the masses. The captain of the guard was approaching on the eastern side. Further south, he recognized the blonde soldier. Instead of knight's armor, he was now garbed in a green tunic and a blue scarf. Again, the sight of him stirred a forgotten memory within Volga, but he pushed it aside. All that mattered was the here and now. Cia wanted something with that youth. Volga would do whatever it took to fulfill her wishes.

"The hero has come to see me at last…" she sighed. "Don't keep me waiting, Link."

Both Volga and Wizzro looked in her direction. She was smiling down at the bloody battlefield beneath them. Her mask hid her eyes from view. Still, she seemed barely aware of their presence.

"Permission to join the battle, Mistress Cia," Volga requested. His claws itched to tear. Fire was boiling in his stomach, yearning to be leashed upon their enemy.

Cia granted Volga's wish with a wave of her hand. "Go ahead. Liven things up a bit."

Volga sprang from his perch and glided over the battlefield. As his large shadow passed over enemy forces, screams of terror reached his ears.

"The Dragon Knight! The Dragon Knight's appeared!"

"We'll never last against his strength!"

It pleased Volga to hear such words. But he didn't bother with the pathetic foot soldiers. He went straight to the Hyrulean General, attempting an attack from above.

"General Impa!" Soldiers called out a warning just in time.

General Impa rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding being crushed by Volga's girth. Earth and dust scattered around him. When it cleared, he was standing in the middle of the crater in his human form. Impa quickly gathered herself and pulled out a giant longsword, positioning herself in a defensive posture.

Volga just looked at her, giving her a few moment to drown in the suspense. Then he attacked.

His onslaught was merciless. He utilized every weapon in his arsenal—pike, claws, teeth, fire, and wings. Impa was fast, but she wore little armor. Volga easily ripped off what was there and shredded her bare skin with his claws. She leaped backwards, gasping for breath. Volga pursued.

Impa was fully on the defensive now. She placed all her energy into blocking and leaping away from Volga. Every so often she would strike him with her sword, but he was quick to shield himself.

"Pah. You're no fun. Don't you have a stronger warrior for me to duel?" Volga scoffed, aiming to maim one of Impa's thin legs. She would not be able to jump away so easily on only one.

However, before he could, something slammed into him. He gasped, attempting to regain himself, but the wall that hit him just kept coming and coming. It drove him straight into the side of a cliff. Rocks showered down and the sound of breaking glass pierced his ears. Volga lay among the wreckage, stunned.

"Are you okay?" A muted voice asked.

"Yes. Thank you, Lana."

Roaring furiously, Volga rose, sending his tomb of rocks scattering in every direction. He came face to face with his attacker—a young girl with blue hair and a striking resemblance to Cia. But Volga did not care about that. He was so close to killing the Hyrulean General, and she was getting in his way. He barreled towards her, brandishing his pike.

"Go!" Lana shouted at Impa. The injured captain raced away, in the direction of the Gate.

Volga attempted to run Lana through with his weapon, but she nimbly dodged him. He noticed how light on her feet she was and retaliated with a stream of fire. But then another one of those walls sprang up, protecting her from harm. It came flying towards him.

_The same trick won't work twice!_ Volga thought, leaping to the side. But then another wall sprang up. And another. He was boxed in.

The four walls closed in with terrible speed. As they collided with his body, they shattered. He could feel glass piercing his face. Blood ran down his cheeks. He stumbled to his feet, summoning his strength for a transformation. But Lana had disappeared. She'd gone sprinting up the trail after Impa, focused on her destination.

"Cowards!" Volga roared after them. "Come back and finish this fight!"

"What are you wailing about, Volga?" A bored voice asked in his head. Cia was using her telepathy to communicate with him. A gleeful cackle betrayed that Wizzro was in on the transmission as well.

Volga felt a flash of irritation that the two so easily could enter his head. He dropped to his knees, pounding his fist into the ground. "I was careless…next time it won't end like this!"

"Classic Volga," Wizzro said in a singsong voice.

The air all around Volga seemed thick with Cia's disappointment. He could almost taste it.

"Why don't you cool down?" She suggested. "It's embarrassing to see you talk so big and perform so poorly."

Volga did just as Cia said, hiding himself away for the rest of the battle. He joined Wizzro on a cliff to oversee the rest of the battle. The Hyrulean forces battled their way forward. Cia remained where she was in front of the Gate of Souls. Unguarded.

As the Hyrulean General and the young soldier approached, Volga tensed himself to spring to Cia's aid.

"Stand down," Cia said coolly, her voice ringing in her minions' heads. "Stay where you are."

Volga had no choice but to obey, though it pained him to remain here. He glanced at Wizzro. The little beast's eye was glinting with joy, as if all of this were a game to amuse him. Volga wished he could tear the light from that eye. Instead, he turned his attention back to Cia.

What followed was unlike anything Volga had ever seen in his long life. Once their attackers were in position, Cia cast a dark spell to rip their power from them. As soon as it was in her grasp, Hyrule began changing around them. The land shook underneath their feet. Volga transformed, digging his claws into the ground for a better hold. Wizzro just laughed maniacally at his confusion.

Portals were opening up, warping the land. They could witness it all from their vantage point. Floating islands and manmade architecture sprang from nothing. A familiar, towering mountain appeared on the distant fields. The earth seemed to quake for ages. Only when the land stopped changing, did it cease.

Before Volga could react, Cia's voice called for him and Wizzro. "Come to me—quickly!"

They gathered, away from their enemies, so as to not be disturbed.

"There isn't much time. I've opened three more gates from separate eras. Lana and those other fools will be wanting to close them—you must not let that happen, is that clear?"

"Clear as crystal, Mistress Cia," Wizzro wheezed.

Volga didn't understand what was happening. Never had he witnessed such strange events. But he nodded along anyways, knowing he'd be objected to Wizzro's jeers if he said otherwise.

Cia continued on quickly. "We're going to have to split up. I will go to the Era of Twilight. Wizzro, you will go to the mountain and guard the gate there. Volga, I am sending you to the island in the sky."

Volga hesitated, looking at Death Mountain in the distance. "Forgive me for speaking against your orders, but I would prefer to take Wizzro's place at the mountain. This is a place from my past. My skills and knowledge would be utilized there."

Cia turned to Volga, her expression angry. "And _I _would prefer if you followed orders, Volga. Your past is not important. What is important is you flying to that floating island and keeping that gate open. Understand?"

Volga bowed his head in submission. "I understand."

Wizzro snickered. Volga transformed without another word. As he did so, he allowed his long tail to whip out, catching Wizzro's cloak with its hook. "Hey!" The little demon snapped, but Volga was deaf to his complaints. With one strong beat of his wings, he was off the ground and flying in the direction of the floating islands.

His heart tugged him in the opposite direction, willing him to go to the mountain. But he easily brushed those feelings aside. Cia had given him a duty, a purpose. Her orders were to be followed without question.

* * *

><p>Volga had heard legends of Skyloft, but it had existed far before the year of his birth. There was something magnificent about the floating islands, something he could have appreciated if he weren't in the midst of a war.<p>

The island was choked with monsters. Knights armed with swords, shields, and bombs fought them on colorful, long-necked birds. They would have made a substantial meal, if Volga did not detest getting feathers stuck in his teeth.

The great dragon landed heavily at the edge of Skyloft, right next to a building where a squadron of young knights was sheltering. A large, muscular man clad in a teal tunic and with striking ginger hair addressed them.

"If the monsters get past the experienced knights, it's our job to keep the refugees inside the academy safe! You—" The man broke off with a gasp at the sight of Volga.

The young knights and training whipped around, weapons at the ready. However, Volga was already transforming into a human. They watched him in awe.

Making enemies before he had located the gate would not be wise. Once he could speak, Volga told the knights, "I've come to…aid your cause. Together, we will make short work of these creatures." Speaking the words was like swallowing bile. Never could he have imagined he'd be offering aid to humans, of all creatures.

The captain of the knights looked Volga up and down. His gold eyes sparked with suspicion.

Volga remained still, waiting for his answer. If he were truly stupid, he would say no. Volga could easily fight off their army all while pursuing his mission. It was just easier this way.

"Very well," The Skyloft Captain grunted, surprising Volga. "We'll take all the help we can get."

Volga nodded and took off running down a slope. He could hear the captain barking out more orders behind him. The knights and birds fighting for their lives took little notice of Volga as he joined the fray alongside them. But he was just going through the motions, reaching out with his senses to locate the spawning point of these monsters.

"_Volga!"_

Cia's voice rang in Volga's head so suddenly and loudly that he almost fell over. He caught himself just in time, blocking out the sounds of battle and focusing inward.

"I have located a pawn to use in our little game. Zant, the Usurper King of the Era of Twilight. I'm going to get him to agree to fight for us. I want you to see if you can locate any other worthy allies in the sky. Do you understand?"

Volga could not respond, unable to use telepathy. He nodded anyways.

"For your sake, I hope you do…"

Cia's presence faded. A bokoblin had attacked Volga while he listened to her orders. It was currently smacking at his armored legs with its crude machete. Volga easily ended its pathetic existence, all while considering what Cia had said.

_Why would she need another ally? _He pondered, pride slightly wounded. _None can surpass myself. _

"Who dares interfere in the works of Lord Ghirahim?!"

Volga looked up to see whom had spoken.

A demon with white hair, dark eyes, and a crimson cape was leering straight at him. A sabre was in his right hand, dripping with blood. He casually brought it to his face and ran his long tongue over the surface.

Volga supposed that was meant to intimidate him. This was clearly the kind of ally Cia had meant. As much as he didn't want to, Volga would have to recruit him. He kicked aside the corpse of the bokoblin and began to stride towards Ghirahim, pike held harmlessly at his side.

"Greetings, Ghirahim. I am the Dragon Knight, Volga. My Mistress, Cia, is looking for worthy fighters to join her dark army. I believe that, due to the fact that we share similar goals and a common enemy, you would make a valuable addition—"

"Do not speak to me in such a disrespectful manner, you dog!" Ghirahim snapped. "There is only one I call 'Master.' For your insolence, I shall punish you most…deliciously."

The demon snapped his fingers and vanished in a spray of diamonds. He was instantly before Volga, swinging his sword with unexpected ferocity. Volga blocked the blow with his pike. While Ghirahim strained to break past it, he breathed fire right at his face.

Ghirahim flipped backwards, eyes wide with shock. This time, it was Volga's turn to charge him. His hands morphed into dragon's claws as he did so. Ghirahim's eyes went wide with pleasant surprise. A curious smile flicked across his face.

"This is going to be more fun than I thought," He declared.

Roaring, Volga attempted to claw the smug expression off his face. But despite his delicate appearance, Ghirahim quickly proved to have great strength and agility. As he materialized all over the place, he flung sharp throwing knives at Volga. They glanced off his thick armor harmlessly, though one grazed his cheek, leaving a thin cut.

Wings sprouted from Volga's back as he struggled to keep up with Ghirahim. He didn't want to complete the transformation, lest he become a bigger target. The wings aided him greatly. He could see Ghirahim's breaths coming quicker as he struggled to keep one step ahead of him.

When he could no longer play the evading game, the two engaged one another with their weapons. Amidst the Skyloft soldiers and the bokoblins, the battle raged. Some bystanders actually stopped to stare at the demon and half-dragon, half-man locked in combat.

Volga's chest felt like it was on fire. He dug deep, trying to summon every bit of power Cia had bestowed on him, and threw himself at Ghirahim, pike pointed at his throat. With his superior weight, he pinned him to the ground, prepared to drive it through and end it.

Ghirahim did not attempt to materialize elsewhere. He lay there panting, white hair a mess, his red cape ragged. Volga expected some kind of resistance. Instead, the demon smiled.

"I…underestimated you…and the depths to which you would sink to win," Ghirahim confessed, attempting to catch his breath. "If I can learn from you…I'll gladly join you."

Volga remained where he was. The tip of his spear hovered just above Ghirahim's jugular. The demon seemed barely aware of it, dark eyes shining hopefully as he waited for the knight's answer.

"That's it?" Volga growled. "Your obedience is bought so cheaply?"

"Perhaps. Didn't you say we might share a similar goal and a common enemy?"

Volga knew he should have been pleased with the demon's sudden change of heart, but he only felt disgust. He rose to his feet, retracting his pike with a flourish and plunging it into the ground. "I did, but you weren't so eager to listen."

He helped Ghirahim to his feet and explained a bit. When he brought up the topic of the Hero, Ghirahim's features hardened.

"Say no more! I shall join your little alliance. Try not to feel too flattered." He ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it.

Suddenly, Volga felt a presence. Ghirahim seemed to feel it too. "He's here," Volga hissed.

Link.

"Go get yourself battle-ready, then head to the enemy stronghold. They're holed up in an academy of some sort. Keep an eye out for the hero. But if you see him, don't kill him." Cia wanted him alive.

Ghirahim's eyes glittered with bloodlust. Volga was not so sure he had heard the last part. "What will you do?"

Volga ripped his pike out of the ground. "Every last human in these lands will fall to my blade."

Ghirahim looked unimpressed. "Volga, Volga," he sighed. "So full of yourself. You forget that it is I, Ghirahim, who leads the demon tribe."

Ghirahim brought his fingers to his mouth and whistled shrilly. It caught the attention of all the monsters in the area. Ghirahim waved his arm and began sprinting back the way Volga had come. The monsters stampeded after him, crowing with excitement.

Volga watched them go. The knights and their steeds scrambled to follow.

"Traitor!" A weak voice said. "I thought you were on our side."

A dead loftwing was sprawled on the ground a few yards away, one of its wings torn clean off. A knight lay trapped underneath its bird, her face slick with blood. Accusation shone dimly in her eyes.

"I am on no one's side," Volga said quietly.

The knight did not respond. Her consciousness seemed to be slipping somewhere far away.

Volga did not bother with her. Instead, he spent the next hour scouring the island for the Gate of Souls. But it was impossible to locate. _It has to be here. How else would these monsters have appeared?_

Then he realized: Ghirahim must have brought them here. He should have known. The gate was not here. It could have been anywhere on the surface for all he knew.

_What a waste of time! _Volga was enraged. He transformed into a dragon and flew high over the island, doing one last sweep. The monsters did not seem to be originating from anywhere. In fact, their numbers were dwindling.

Surrounded by corpses of monsters stood Link. His green tunic stuck out like a sore thumb among their red bodies. He was fighting Ghirahim, successfully beating him back from where the townspeople sheltered.

_Perhaps I should not have granted him such a beating, _Volga thought, mildly amused.

Ghirahim seemed to sense his presence. His head whipped up towards the sky and he glowered ferociously at the dragon. "These fools are so insensitive—Volga! Make yourself useful!"

A laugh rumbled in Volga's throat. "Ahh, this just might be interesting. Are you ready to fight a real warrior?"

He began to swoop down from the sky, prepared to aid Ghirahim. The Hero would not last long against their combined might. However, before he could draw close, a dozen Loftwings came flying out of nowhere. They streaked screaming across the sky, beaks opened, talons splayed.

Volga screeched as the birds aimed for his weak points—the eyes and the wings. He writhed in their grip, spraying fire every which way. The putrid scent of burnt feathers reached his nose, but the pain did not stop. Sharp beaks ripped at his scales, struggling to reach the tender flesh beneath.

"VOLGA!" Ghirahim's shouted, his tone demanding aid. The demon had no choice but to retreat as his ally was detained in the sky.

But Volga had managed to regain himself. One by one, he pried off the lightweight bodies of the Loftwings, crushing their thin bones in his claws and teeth. He spotted Link beneath him, looking horrified.

Volga ripped the last bird off his tail and threw it straight at the ground. Link leaped backwards, narrowly avoiding being hit.

"Don't make me laugh!" Volga roared. "Give me a battle worth my time, not this child's play!"

He could see Link raise his sword and shield, ready to give him just that.

Volga didn't feel like wasting anymore of his time. _This place does not have what I am looking for. This island is useless._

Instead of meeting Link's challenge, Volga turned away and soared in the opposite direction. He took a giant breath, and then released it in a stream of flames. The fire fell onto the village below. The plants instantly became ashes. Screams of terror reached Volga's ears. He could see Link racing along, with some destination in mind, probably off to save those who were trapped.

He didn't care. He was invincible in the sky. Volga continued his flight, passing over every bit of Skyloft and showering it in flames. Arrows fell short of reaching him. Loftwings retreated from his might. No one could stand up to him.

Suddenly, there was a rumbling voice that filled the sky.

"Impudent snake!"

Volga saw a figure emerging from the clouds. It was a beast ten times his size, resembling a sea creature he had encountered many years ago. Volga flexed his claws, prepared to meet this challenger's onslaught.

Before he could take a single wingbeat, a terrible sound filled his ears. It resembled an explosion. In the same instant, white filled his vision as lightning came shooting down from above, striking him where he was.

A screech of pure pain tore from Volga's lung. The electricity lanced up and down his spine, paralyzing his wings. It was unlike anything he had felt before.

He could feel air rushing all around him. He was falling. His limbs twitched uselessly, his wings locked in place. He passed through the clouds, the edges of his vision going dark.

The last thing he saw was the ground rushing up at him.


End file.
